


taxi ride

by theelusiveflamingo



Category: Imagine Me & You (2005)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Sex, people writing fluff who never write fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-28
Updated: 2013-12-28
Packaged: 2018-01-06 11:43:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1106408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theelusiveflamingo/pseuds/theelusiveflamingo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Not yet, that’s for later,” Luce says.  “Right now’s all about you.”  She sinks to the floor of the taxi, and looking back up at Rachel, says, “Besides, I’m shit at staying quiet when you touch me, you know that.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	taxi ride

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spinsterclaire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spinsterclaire/gifts).



> (late) xmas gift for you, sweetling. so sorry for the trainwreck that occurs when someone who never writes fluffy happy fic writes fluffy happy fic!

The cab driver’s yelling in Spanish into his headset and the rosary he’s hung around his rearview mirror is clacking away every time he swerves around a pothole or some construction debris, but Rachel’s so full of plantains and what did they call it? a _picadillo?_ whatever it was, it was stuffed full of rice and cheese-- she thinks she could fall asleep despite the noise.  Dinner was an endless feast, just as Rachel always imagined honeymoon dinners ought to be:

_“My treat,” Luce said, grinning.  She’d dribbled a bit of some sort of sauce on her white t-shirt but she didn’t seem to mind, and Rachel couldn’t say she minded, either, what with that brown dot constantly catching her eye and drawing her attention to the faint pink of Luce’s nipple that was visible through the thin fabric._

_“Some treat when the local currency is worth—what did it say at the airport?  One pound is 800 colón?”_

_“Something like that,” Luce replied.  “In that case, d’you want extra dessert?” She squeezed Rachel’s knee under the table, and Rachel jumped—_

“Oh!”  Luce has squeezed her knee again.   Can she read minds?  Rachel wouldn’t be surprised.  Luce is about as energetic as Rachel is sleepy, yelling back a perky “It’s all right, really,” anytime the driver apologizes for swerving or bumping or stopping short, scrambling through the Lonely Planet trying to figure out how to say _don’t worry, it’s fine!_ in Spanish.  Rachel doesn’t know where she gets the energy from—she’s up all night making Rachel come til she’s sore, she’s up all day going on hikes and walks and trying out restaurants—but it’s the sweetest thing Rachel’s seen, ever.  Luce is so very _real._

“You startled me,” Rachel says.

“That was my plan,” Luce explains, brushing a stray crumb from the front of Rachel’s white sundress.  “You can’t fall asleep on me, what would I do when we got back to the hotel?  Carry you in like a damsel in distress?”

“I’d like to see you try,” Rachel says.  “You’d drop me.  I’m heavier than you think.”

“I’m strong,” Luce says.  “And my hands can’t let go of you while you’re in them.  Not sure what that’s all about.”  She pulls Rachel onto her lap.  Costa Rica is hot, of course, as steamy-jungly as Rachel has always imagined, so Rachel’s thighs are slick with sweat and she can feel a similar dampness soaking through Luce’s brown shorts.  Or maybe it isn’t sweat.  Rachel blushes.

“I can’t stop thinking about you, Rach,” Luce mumbles in her ear.

“Well, I _hope_ you can’t,” Rachel says, and she plants a light kiss on Luce’s lips.  This hasn’t stopped making Rachel’s stomach feel bubbly and her skin feel tingly and other parts of her burn harder than they ever had for anyone else.  “We’re on our honeymoon.  I think I’d be unhappy if you _weren’t_ thinking about me.”

“You are absolutely ridiculous,” Luce says, tweaking her nose.  “Let me show you what I mean.”  Suddenly one of her jumpy hands is on Rachel’s thigh, slipping under her skirt and hurrying up, up, up.  Luce traces her fingernail over the growing wet patch on Rachel’s underwear and then begins to circle it over Rachel’s clit, over and over, the pressure never changing.  Luce—oh, she is the _worst_ , no one else has ever tortured Rachel so sweetly, but of course she’s the best too, the absolute best.  Rachel’s mouth hangs open. She feels herself already sagging back against the seat.

“I can’t stop thinking about _this_ ,” Luce whispers.  The taxi speeds through another pothole, accidentally increasing the pressure of Luce’s nail.  Rachel has to choke back her moan.  “I’ve been thinking about it for quite a while, actually.”

“Since you met me?”

Luce covers her mouth with kisses, and it seems like quite a while before she responds with a “Maybe.”

“You’re a pervert,” Rachel giggles, and begins to roll her hips against Luce’s hand.  She’s dimly aware of the fact that her underwear’s a sodden mess, but decides that there’s certainly no need to feel embarrassed about _that_. 

“Maybe,” Luce says again.  She moves to straddle Rachel’s thigh.  Rachel reaches and squeezes Luce’s nipples softly between her fingertips.  Luce catches her eyes and the look on her face is one of _longing._ It’s all still so new, but Luce loves whatever she does, which just makes her want to do _more_ and _more_ and _more…_

 “Not yet, that’s for later,” Luce says.  “Right now’s all about you.”  She sinks to the floor of the taxi, and looking back up at Rachel, says, “Besides, I’m shit at staying quiet when you touch me, you know that.”

“I’m still half deaf from the last time we— _oh!_ ”  Luce has hooked a finger around her underwear, shoved the fabric to the side, and wrapped her lips around Rachel’s clit all in one go.  “Luce!”  she says, trying to keep her voice down.  “We’re in a…There’s a _man_ …”

“I can’t hear you, you’ll have to speak up,” Luce mumbles.  Her words buzz against Rachel’s lower lips, which are slick with anticipation.  “I think there’s a skirt in the way.”

The way Luce uses her tongue makes Rachel crazy.  The first time Luce tried it on her, she came faster than she ever had in her life.  Luce is just _that good._ She darts her tongue in and out of Rachel, swirling it in tiny circles as she does, tasting every bit of Rachel she can reach.  The taxi’s loud, but Rachel knows that if she could hear, she’d hear Luce making little noises as she enjoysherself.  Rachel half-wonders if Luce has got a hand down her shorts—but she _wouldn’t_ , not here, not even Luce would—but that’s the thing, of course, Luce might do _anything_.

Rachel tangles her hand in Luce’s hair, which is as enticingly sweaty as the rest of her, and nudges her head just a bit.  Luce obliges, kissing into every crack of her til she reaches her clit and sucks, her lips providing perfect pressure, her tongue nipping and swirling.

“God, Luce,” Rachel mumbles, her thighs clamping around Luce’s head, already feeling so close and it’s only been what—five minutes?  More?  Less?  She can’t tell.  The cab swings around a corner, and Rachel catches the driver’s eyes in the rearview mirror.  She smiles and quickly ducks her head.

“Luce,” she whispers, “d’you think he knows what’s going on?”

“Still can’t hear you!” Luce calls back, and the question of where her hands have gone is answered when Luce’s other hand, the one that’s not holding back her underwear, creeps up her thigh.  Luce slides one finger inside her, her tongue still working, and Rachel balls her fists in Luce’s hair because if she doesn’t she’ll scream so loud she’ll break everything glass in the whole country of Costa Rica.

“God, Luce, please, _please_ ,” she gasps, “I can’t stay quiet if you keep—”  Luce adds a second finger—Rachel’s so wet it slides in effortlessly—and flickers her tongue faster over Rachel’s clit.  When her thumb joins her tongue, Rachel can’t take it anymore and she comes, tugging at Luce’s hair, her hips pumping against Luce’s face over and over again.

Luce kisses her way up Rachel’s stomach (the white dress is probably ruined now, soaked with sweat as it is) and then slides back onto the seat next to her. 

“What were you saying before, love?” Luce asks, peeling sweat-stuck strands of hair off her forehead, then doing the same to Rachel’s.  “I’ve moved the skirt that was in the way.”

“Five minutes, okay?” the driver says, suddenly.  Rachel stares out the window.  They seem to have left the traffic behind.  Rachel hadn’t even noticed.  With Luce in between her legs the taxi could have grown wings and flown away and she wouldn’t have been able to tell.  

“You are—you are—”  Rachel’s gasping for breath and her she’s still tingling all over.  “You’re _perfect_.”

“So are you,” Luce breathes.  “And I can tell you’ve been eating lots of fruit.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, they say when girls eat lots of fruit, they taste a bit sweeter than usual down there.”  And she kisses Rachel to prove it.

Rachel can’t exactly taste fruit on Luce’s tongue, but she’s happy to taste it all the same.

“You may need to carry me into the hotel after all,” she says.  “After what you just did?  My legs will be shaking for the next week.”

Luce cups her cheek and kisses her again.  Her lips are soft but her tongue is firm, just the way Rachel likes.  “I’ll see what I can manage.”


End file.
